


Straight Work

by nevermindthebutterflies



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fanfiction, M/M, Smut, jihope - Freeform, jiminxjhope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-07-17 22:45:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermindthebutterflies/pseuds/nevermindthebutterflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimin is by himself. All by himself. Hoseok is just a work buddy and this is just a work outing but Jimin doesn't want it to be just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfiction on here! I really hope this is good I put a lot of time in it and I honestly think this is one of my best-written stories and I hope you guys like it ~

        Brown. It was different, but it held the same amount of dullness as it sounded. His hair was brown. Jimin had done it all by himself, twisting his hands behind his head, painting the locks into the bark color. It was drab, but fresh, like a full breath of clean air. And that's what Jimin needed at the moment; air. He needed something he could rely on to fill his lungs, to calm him, for anxiety was shooting through his veins, his blood pulsed sideways and upside down and Jimin just couldn't calm himself.   
  
His empty apartment echoed around him, closing in, buckling into itself, yet there was so, so much space. So hallow, so vast, a plant here a mirror there but a line cracked the mirror's surface as an ugly reminder that he was alone. That he was all by himself, there was nobody there that could console him.  
  
That, though, would soon change. Soon lights would twirl around him, music would intertwine with his soul, and free alcohol would flood into his entire being. The thought knocked the wind out of him, and he fell back into a chair. Breath breath breath. He had to remind him to inhale and to exhale, to close his eyes when he started seeing blurry. But soon there was a honk and his coworker was outside, waiting, waiting for him.  
  
Jung Hoseok didn't know what to think about Jimin. He thought the younger male was interesting. He had the cubical right next to him, and every day, every night, he was quiet. Ever so quiet. His dark almond eyes were always pinned onto the computer, his fingers typing away, his dark fluffy hair covering them up time to time. Hoseok wanted to call Jimin weird, but something deep inside of him thought something else. Yet, he couldn't put a finger on what the word he was looking for was.  
  
Jimin though, had different thoughts. He viewed Hoseok as a masterpiece, something to hold with careful, steady hands. Only a true artist could touch those black bangs of his, to even  _glance_ at him would be a sin, so Jimin avoided him. He avoided the ideas of the damned Jung Hoseok because Jimin knew if he let his mind wonder that he'd become disappointed by a made-up reality, by stupid dreams, fairy-tales, school-girl daydreams.  
  
But the illusion was shattered tonight. His soft words, his gentle mind would become a war zone once again because outside waiting in a warm black car was Jung Hoseok. Jimin considered walking out there, wrapping himself in a blanket, and pretend to have a cough and apologize for being an inconvenience. Biting his cherry-blossom lips, Jimin let his hands guide him to the door, pick out a worn-down leather jacket, then exit the apartment.  
  
The air was bitter, the autumn winds tattered with the tree's leaves like a kitten playing with a toy. The breeze carried potential for fun fall days, filled to the brim with leaf piles, pumpkin spices and dinners that could over-stuff a hippo but for Jimin it only chilled him to the bone. He hugged the jacket closer to his body, he let it engulf him, he let all his fears bounce inside of him, caged up within.  
  
Words frolicked on his tongue as he walked to the side of the sleek, jet-black car. Unknown fingerprints were carved into the handle, Jimin longed to know who's they were, but they would remain a mystery, a secret only the vehicle would know. He let his hand wander to the handle, opening it up, allowing warmth to seep out of the car door. He let his eyes travel up, to be met with Hoseok's gaze.  
  
 _I'm sick.  
I don't feel well.  
I have a cough.  
I just honestly don't really want to go._  
  
The words stayed trapped inside though, as Jimin took a seat. The chairs were leather, black just like the exterior. The unspoken lyrics jumped inside of him, as if somebody shot a rubber band off of their finger right into Jimin's throat.   
  
Hoseok instantly started driving, knowing that Jimin wasn't noted for small talk. Hoseok wanted to ask how his day was, why he even came if he was obviously uncomfortable, or  _something._ The silence was killing him, swallowing up him from the inside then out, his skin itched with anticipation, longing to erase the stillness of the air, to break Jimin out of his shell. Finally, Hoseok broke into himself.  
  
"That's a nice jacket."  
  
Jimin only nodded. Hoseok had no way of knowing that this jacket held bad memories. Bad bad _bad_ memories that couldn't, wouldn't and shouldn't be remembered. His teeth met his tongue in a harsh greeting, keeping Jimin silent but almost at the verge of tears.  
  
He looked out of his window as he rubbed the zipper of his jacket. He could taste blood now, blood so crisp so metallic so unusually welcoming and calming for the lights outside were blinding. Tiny beads of gleaming gold raced by, causing Jimin's head to twirl, for his insides to clinch up, and his hand shot to the base of the seat and he dug his nails in in in.  
  
"Do you not like cars?"  
  
Concern. There was _concern_ in his voice. Jimin dared his gaze to lock with Hoseok's. One of his hands were on the wheel, the other on the center console, ready to pounce at Jimin, ready to hold on if he needed to, ready to dig his claws in and Jimin didn't know wither to welcome the claws to slash at his neck, to melt in them, or to flinch away. Finally, _finally,_ he released a breath. He stopped rubbing on the zipper, and he let his fingers go limp.  
  
"Yeah, I just get a little motion-sick time to time."  
  
Hoseok nodded, putting his eyes back onto the road. Jimin inhaled once again, looking straight forward. The lights weren't as violent now, and stars now dotted the inky sky. He let himself disappear for a moment, for his mind to go blank. His heart stopped and he was soon flying, soaring, his body numb. He let himself float upwards, and let his arms brush the stars. They were cold to the touch, the definition of silver, tiny tin cans for the sun and moon to toy with when they got bored judging the the earth.  
  
"Brown... your hair wasn't brown before, was it?"  
  
Jimin sunk down back to reality. He wasn't dead, he wasn't a ghost, he was no longer invisible. No, he was very, very alive. He felt self-conscious all over again, he felt nervousness bounce into his blood vessels once again, he wanted to scream, he wanted to pull every little hair out of his scalp. His toes curled inside of his black combat boots, every little muscle howled at him to open the car door right now, and just jump out it.  
And the idea of asphalt sounded so, so soft.  
  
"I-I dyed it earlier today."

Jimin damned the stutter that slipped onto his tongue. Jimin damned saying anything at all. He damned this fear that controlled him that made him want to slam his head into the headboard of the chair, and yet he sat there frozen still, careful not to even blink, just replaying his words over and over again in his head.   
  
"It looks good on you."  
  
Silence. Muteness. Stillness. There was no word that could describe the quietness that surrounded the two, choking Jimin, shoving its powerful fingers into his throat. Simple sentence, simple words, not simple mind. His thoughts whirled around and around in circles tight enough to make him puke. Was his mind playing games with him? Did he just get complimented by _the_ Jung Hoseok? No no no no he can't he is ugly he is horrible he is disgusting he is  _Jimin_ for god's sake the awkward nerd who everybody pities.   
  
Jimin lost his authority again, his hands rubbing on zippers, on pockets, on the frays on his pants again again and again until once again he was numb, he was quiet, he was lost.  
  
The car came to a stop at a bustling club, words flashed along its side, advertising that in here was beer! a dance floor! and a D.J! Many other cars were parked around it, and Jimin could practically label who's car it was from his work.  
  
 _That one is Minhyuk's, I heard him say he got an ugly hand-me-down car from his parents last week.  
Oh and that one must be Hongbin's, he's always liked to show off.  
  
_Jimin could do that for hours, playing with the cars as if they were puzzle pieces, lining them up with the personalities of their possible owners. But no, once Hoseok parked he had to get out of the car and walk in there and socialize and  _smile_ and be  _fucking normal._  
  
The air seemed colder now as he stepped out of the car, it seemed to nip at Jimin, to cackle at his existence, to remind him that yes, life was still here and that yes, life is still painful.   
  
Hoseok walked next to him, hands in pockets, claws hidden away, but his cat eyes still shone in the dark, still saw the tension in Jimin's shoulders, in the way his hands fiddled with that broken zipper, with the faded pockets and how now, that he looked at the jacket, it looked like Jimin had meddled with the jacket for a long, _long_  time. Jimin's fingerprints were practically engraved into the worn-down, yellowing, leather.  
  
Being the gentleman his mother raised, Hoseok opened the door for Jimin. He seemed small. So, so small, almost microscopic in the dumb jacket in the crowded bar and of  _course_ everybody showed up tonight for the drinks were free on their boss. Hoseok wanted to protect Jimin. Something deep down inside of him wanted to turn around and bring that boy home and wrap him up like a burrito in a blanket, give him hot coco, and place him in front of a fireplace and tell him it was going to be alright. But Hoseok wasn't Jimin's  _mom,_ he wasn't sure if he could even call himself Jimin's  _friend._ The geeky boy was distant, almost too distant, and it didn't seem like he even  _had_ any friends. But that wasn't Hoseok's problem, and nor was it his problem to helicopter over the boy, it was his decision to come and if he wanted a ride home he was going to stay.  
  
"Good luck out there, don't get too crazy!"  
  
Hoseok said, a smile plastered on his face, giving Jimin one pat on the shoulder before going to talk to who-knows-who and their new girlfriend. Jimin didn't even look back, he just made a beeline for the bar. The bottles looked down at him from their shelves, whispering to each other, chattering at the new man who was here. What would he order? What does he want?   
  
"Are you on Sinhyun's tab?"  
  
The bartender was already bored with the crowd, with asking the same thing over and over again. But the name of Jimin's boss was familiar, something that he could recognize.  
  
"Yes sir and could I get any light beer I don't really care."  
  
His mind was stumbling, he could feel himself going downhill already. His black turtleneck sweater was already getting too hot and too tight. When the bartender passed him the can of beer he instantly opened it and took a large gulp. It tasted cheap, but it also tasted sweet, it tasted better than air. Before he knew it, the whole bottle of medicine filled him up, leaving its burning aftertaste on the tip of Jimin's tongue. Another. Another. Another. Jimin ordered one more but this time it wasn't light, it wasn't cheap and a smirk played on his lips and he rolled his eyes into his skull until his saw tiny stars once again and oh god he was in  _heaven.  
  
_ "Jimin, glad you came out. Who drove you here? I know that the last thing you'd do is drive and you didn't call me."  
  
Jimin would know that deep voice from anywhere. There was Kim Namjoon, his only true friend, his pink-tipped hair being the inspiration for Jimin to dye his own. A smile was on those plump lips and a glass was in his hand and wrapped in his other stealing half of his jacket was a man Jimin couldn't identify and Jimin could only guess that it was Namjoon's next  _victim._  
  
"I got a ride, you know Hoseok? The guy who sits next to me? He drove."  
  
Now that Jimin's mind was fuzzy his words were bold, his smile fearless and his body just felt  _dull._  
Namjoon let out a deep chuckle and nodded. He knew Jimin was in danger, deep, deep danger. Jimin was a patient in pain, and all around him was anesthetic, free for the taking. And Jimin was threatening to everything he touched when he was out of it, and shortly, Jimin would be gone gone gone.   
  
Namjoon shuffled away and somehow Jimin ended up on the dance floor. The floor became like a sea, swaying back and forth under his feet and the water splashed on exposed hips, backs and collarbones in the form of sweat. They all glistened in the flashing of the lights, like they were all tiny islands in the middle of the stormy ocean and the strobes were lightning and the speakers were the thunder. Songs jabbed Jimin right in the ribs, the bass making him tremble, almost fall from the transparent weight. As his legs ceased to walk he got passed through strong arms and hands that tapped on his hips and bum and Jimin didn't even mind. He too became grabby and pressed a foreign body against his own, her boobs squished against his chest, her hair tickled his nose and it was too much.  
  
He hobbled to the outskirts of the floor, he needed once again air air  _air._ His hands brushed through his newly-dyed hair, still soft from a deep conditioning and the locks enjoyed being longer longer than they usually were. His fingers shook and he couldn't restrain them but now Jimin couldn't tell if they were shaking from excitement, nervousness, or a mind-boggling mixture of both.  
  
"Feelin' better?"  
  
An alien, unfamiliar hand snaked onto his shoulder, but he didn't flinch at the touch. Jimin turned to the left, and once again there was ©Damn Jung Hoseok. His lips were painted with a thin layer of blood and as he took a swig from a dark bottle, his adam's apple hiccuped and a hickey exposed itself.  
  
All at once, Jimin became small again. He cowered in ©Damn Jung Hoseok's touch, and he wanted a breeze to come by, he wanted it to tug him away, to toss him around, and make him disappear forever and ever.   
  
But Hoseok wouldn't let that happen. His fingers had a firm grip and his lean figure was all too mesmerizing. He danced next to Jimin, his mind floated away in some daydream, and the bottle in his hand almost slipped. Jimin caught it, took a gulp, and started dancing too.  
  
He couldn't help the smile, he couldn't help but run his fingers through Hoseok's hair, and he couldn't help his hips from grinding up against his partners. Jealousy bubbled up on his skin, over-boiling every time that stupid little bruise reared its ugly little head on ©Damn Jung Hoseok's neck. But, Jimin was in bliss. There Hoseok was, melting at his finger tips, his lips brushing at the bottle of beer, struggling to keep control on it while at the same time trying to prevent Jimin from taking  _such big of sips.  
  
_ And for a couple of minutes, Jimin forgot. Jimin forgot that he was supposed to be a tame young male with thick black reading glasses and a tendency to apologize too often. He forgot that tonight he was wearing the jacket that his best friend/boyfriend/enemy gave him oh so long ago and finally he forgot that Hoseok  _was straight as a pole and he thinks that gays are udder filth.  
  
_ "Jimin. Jimin.  _Jimin!"_

The trance, was broken. The club came back dark, black, and inky. Hoseok's face was in front of Jimin's, alcohol tainting his lips.  
  
"We need to get a fucking Uber or something. Did you bring cash?"   
  
Jimin nodded, his lips were once again sown shut, and he was glad the leather jacket was lost within the crowd. No matter how much he tried, Jimin was still Jimin, Hoseok was still Hoseok, and somebody still gave him that hickey and Hoseok wasn't his.   
  
The Uber came quickly and Hoseok snuggled in close to Jimin, his eyes swaying, looking for something to land on. The car smelled like thick black smoke and the seats were ugly and yellow and the driver was fat and  _was that a cheeto stuck in his fat roll?_ Jimin couldn't think straight, barely even see straight, but he wanted Hoseok far far away. He didn't want his touch he didn't want his perfect smile he didn't want those chocolate eyes and he didn't want that angelic body in his bed tonight.  
  
"Damn Jimin, we need to do that again sometime. What is your number?"  
  
Hoseok handed the boy his phone and Jimin looked down at the screensaver. It was a picture of Hoseok and Jimin knew that girl must be his sister; they had the same large eyes and god-sculpted cheekbones. Yet, envy filled his veins and he just wanted to throw the phone. He wanted to throw Hoseok's phone right into the driver's nasty-ass fat rolls and for the phone to shatter and for the guy so finally Hoseok would get the idea to  _fuck off._  
  
With white trembling fingers, Jimin typed his phone number in. Anger pulsed through him, making his temples to throb and he could no longer feel his body only the aftertaste of that disgusting cheap light beer and he wanted to puke it all up. He wanted the slither away into a cave and scream and yell and drink till he couldn't think straight and swallow a whole bottle of pills but he couldn't do that because he has to eat lunch with Namjoon tomorrow and maybe actually get to have platonic sex with him because Namjoon just  _knows Jimin_ and Jimin _knows_ he is needy and that he shouldn't fuck his only friend but he is  _needy needy needy_ and Namjoon once again knows how Jimin is after he dips in his danger zone.  
  
Once again Jimin was in front of his apartment with Hoseok by his side in a warm car on a cold night. Now though his body was uncontrollable and Hoseok was passed out and Jimin was feeling worse than he had in a while. He tipped the fat driver, tempted to put a bill in the cheeto-infested fat roll and tell him to  _buy himself something nice_ but instead he said to drive safe and have a good night.   
  
Anger, lust, and jealousy coursed through Jimin's mind as he plopped down on his bed, completely stripped, and he knew that at least two of those were sins. He wanted the night to dissolve away, he wanted to act like it never happened, but it did and it was four o'clock in the morning and he couldn't sleep. Jimin stared at his ceiling, but he couldn't sit still. The ceiling kept playing tricks on him and pretending to fall fall fall down but once it almost crashed into his face it would go right back up, laughing at Jimin falling for its prank once again.   
  
Jimin stood up to go make himself who-knows-what in the kitchen but a flash of his phone stopped him. Eyes squinting, he picked up the bright phone and unlocked it to see who the fuck would be texting him at... at... at four fifty-five in the morning.  
  
' _thnx for payin g uber'  
  
_ He didn't spell 'thanks' correctly. Why was the 'g' seperated from the 'paying'? Why wasn't the 'U' in 'Uber' capitalized? The text from Hoseok made Jimin livid, and, then, he cracked. Jimin's rage splintered into a fit, it's shards shooting everywhere and then  _the phone hit the mirror._  
  
Three more cracks joined the one that was already there and Jimin counted twenty-one more years of bad luck. The phone too, was obliterated. Jimin didn't care anymore. He wanted to be dead. And sleep was the closest thing to it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's better to burn than to fade away, but the world seems to doing just so.

        It's better to burn than to fade away and Jimin knew that but his existence seemed so dull, so blunt, that even when Jimin walked into the coffee shop the bell rung quieter than usual and nobody even turned to see who the new customer was.   
  
It was about 12 o'clock in the afternoon and the Starbucks was filled with a gentle chatter and the smell of coffee beans and vanilla. The world was at a pause here, the outside world was frozen, even the birds were stopped mid-flight, and in this small restaurant was a portal acting as a security blanket, warming everyone inside, holding them close saying that it'll be alright.  
  
Kim Namjoon's pink wisps of hair stuck out from behind a booth, dancing with a breeze from the AC, the chilled air twirling the locks around its invisible fingers, swooning at it's bright pastel color. Namjoon choose the same seat every time, a two-person table in the back, away from prying eyes, and loud whispers.   
  
Finally, the world was revolving around Jimin, and no longer his thick black glasses screamed nerd, no longer the brown cardigan sweater over a crisp white dress shirt seemed boring, finally, finally,  _finally_ he could be calm. Jimin slid into the light brown seat in front of Namjoon, instantly cupping his hands together, a smile beaming on his face.  
  
"Donations please?"  
  
Namjoon rolled his blue eyes (he liked adding the 'wow' factor to his body, therefore, contacts) but still placed a shiny quarter into Jimin's tiny fingers. Jimin looked down, rolling the coin between his index and thumb.  
  
"Only one quarter? Wow, what can I buy? Bubblegum?"  
  
Both of them laughed together. For some reason, this tradition had started up as soon as they became friends. Even though the first time Namjoon gave Jimin a quarter, here, in this very seat, wasn't out of friendliness. He had even barely known Jimin then, but now it had been about two years, and there wasn't anything stopping them soon. Here is where they left their formalities at the door, their problems, their insecurities. They even joked about how hopefully somebody would eventually see the luggage they left titled "Problems" at the door and run away with it, leaving their wealth and happiness behind for the taking.   
  
"Last night was so fucking  _intense,_ bro, who knew our boss knew the Wobble?"  
  
Jimin let out a snicker, laying his head on his propped-up hand, inspecting Namjoon's face. He was a handsome male, with smooth skin, dimples made of unicorns and rainbows and even that stupid pink hair was perfectly perfect on Kim Namjoon. He had a great body too, Jimin knew from experience. Namjoon was perfection all the way down to his stone-hard abs. But he wasn't Jimin's type, not at all, and I mean, _who hasn't fucked their friends a couple times?_  
  
Jimin shook the thought out of his head, he knew he wasn't normal. He knew there was just something  _different_ about him that  _nobody else liked_ and so he let it control him; he let it choose the way he talked, walked, dressed, and thought. His mind was always whirling, circling around useless, dead ideas like a vulture on a carcass, picking at the remains until the idea was finally a meal, something to worry about, something large, something that could overfill him till he too, was on the side of the road, headlights flashing.  
  
"Yeah." Jimin breathed, "What about that victim you brought? Crying right now about the man they could never be with?"  
  
Namjoon's cheeks flushed into the same pink as his hair,  _cherry-blossom pink_ he liked to call it. Namjoon didn't like to admit it, but he was a bit of a player. He could twirl mostly anybody around his finger, toying with them, before he got bored and said the same stupid excuse over and over and over again.  
  
 _They just weren't the right one.  
  
"_Don't call my dates  _victims_ Jimin, and no, Jin isn't crying at home right now-"  
  
"So this one has a name? Jin? How special he is."

Jimin cocked his head, looking into Namjoon's narrowing eyes. Namjoon was ticked off, but it was true. Every night, a new body, every day, a missing name. Namjoon was a lion with a flamboyant pink mane, thick and bushy, attracting all the mammals from the plains right into his unsheathed claws, and this king of the jungle didn't mind playing with his food.   
  
Namjoon looked like he bit his tongue, than stood up. Tense-fully, he walked to the register, picking up a brown bag and two coffees with his and Jimin's name written on the clear cups. Jimin's lips pressed together into a flat line as he saw the look on Namjoon's face, the polar opposite from earlier. _He had pissed Kim Namjoon his only friend off._  
  
Jimin took the drink out of Namjoon's hand, instantly taking a sip. He let the cool cinnamon cover his tongue, bathing it in flavor and sugars. He kept suck suck sucking at the straw till he was forced to swallow and the inside of the cup looked like a tornado; the vanilla and cinnamon at a constant war at who would rule the middle, spiraling in a constant battle, when in reality, the middle just looked like a smudged painting. A failed attempt at something beautiful, at something breathtaking. Instead, now, it was a piece of garbage.  
  
 _Ba-Ding._ Namjoon's phone buzzed. His head tilted down at the bright white screen, curiosity pulsing through his face, electric-like. And from the deep dimples and smile on his face, Jimin could tell whoever texted him was somebody  _Namjoon really liked._  
  
"Who is it? That Jin guy huh? That special."  
  
Jimin regretted the sarcastic words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Namjoon looked up at Jimin, no emotion showing on his face. Jimin felt his hands start to rub the hem of his pockets, and his head bent down. He was like a child about to get scolded, no responsibility to his words, nothing to back him up, no apology. He gulped as Namjoon stood up.  
  
"Yes," Namjoon said softly, "And I'm leaving."  
  
Quiet. Emptiness. The world was now starting again, in full throttle. The gentle chatter now turned into screams, threatening to blow out Jimin's eardrums. How did he always end up here? How come it was always his shitty unfiltered mouth that got him into these type of situations? Jimin longed to say he was just used to this happening, but he wasn't wasn't wasn't. And he didn't think he'd ever be. Every time he did something wrong the world acted like it was going to collapse and now his hands were burning and his cheeks were red and throbbing and  _he just wanted to go home._  
  
He stood up numbly, like a baby deer that had never walked before, and stumbled out of the building, making sure to pick up everybody's bag of problems on his way out. Unfortunately he didn't have any happiness or wealth to leave behind, but he had a quarter and he let the little gray coin slip from his grasp and roll onto the floor. 

  
  
Jimin felt like he was going to cry. He didn't know why. It wasn't the first time he'd pissed off Namjoon, anyways. It just seemed like lately the world was against him. Then again, maybe it was his 21 years of bad luck from smashing the mirror already biting him in the butt.   
  
Jimin only walked places. Partially because he couldn't and wouldn't own a car; his motion sickness wasn't horrible, but terribly anxiety-educing. The other reason was because Jimin liked walking, he liked feeling the pain in his ribs after he walked a really long time, how the ground felt so harsh and so  _real_ under his feet, and the blisters were fun to pop afterwards too. Also, he heard a lot of things. Walking by neighborhoods was always eventful. He could hear how life was  _supposed_ to be. Nothing like the lost boat he was, in the middle of a constantly churning ocean, thunderstorms at every corner and lightning threatening to tip you over.  
  
He didn't walk by here very often, for he didn't go to Starbucks on a daily basis, so somehow he ended up in a gated community, his hands leading him over the fence, his legs making sure he didn't get caught. It felt like he was flying, wind flowing through his hair, his fingertips cold at the ends, molding the crisp autumn air. He was a free bird, soaring high above the clouds, a sea of cotton. Here there was nobody, and everything was quiet.  
  
What made him stop was his lungs were screaming to be filled with oxygen, that it was time to come back down. His breaths were sharp and quick, harsh even, but it felt  _good._ Jimin ran his hands through his poop-brown hair, feeling the soft locks, root to end. His fingers were now numb from dancing with the chilly breeze, and from the sudden burst of energy.  
  
"You look like you are enjoying yourself!"   
  
A recognizable voice said cheerfully behind Jimin. He jerked his head around almost like an owl, feeling threatened. Was he getting in trouble? Is it finally his turn to spend some time in jail? No, but Jimin didn't know what he'd rather want, a police officer or ©Damn Jung Hoseok in his shiny jet-black car with black leather seats in front of him again. And for once, Jimin preferred Jung Hoseok.  
  
He hopped into the car, claiming shotgun as he sat down. He must've looked (and acted) like a insane man, hair puffed out, eyes wide and crazy, jumping into somebody he barely knew's car, because Hoseok's eyes were the size of saucers, large and round.  
  
Jimin cocked his head, staring into Hoseok's eyes.  
  
"Have you ever been happy, even when you should be sad? Have you ever tried to be crazy even though you're so fucking dull?"   
  
Jimin continued peering into Hoseok's dark hazel eyes, flawlessly shaped, just waiting for an answer.  
Hoseok bit his lip, pulling at the flesh slowly. He closed his eyelids gradually, until they came to a close. His long eyelashes brushed his cheeks, teasing Jimin with every lash. This boy was untainted, his skin smooth and glowy, his hair falling down in unparalleled locks, perfection on every edge of his body.  
  
Without hurry, Hoseok finally let a word escape his lips, that word being the dreaded 'no'. Jimin let an exaggerated sigh into the air, finally letting himself breath. He studied the interior of the car; it had at one time seemed unscathed, pristine even, but now that his mind was numb, Jimin noticed the little red dots splattered on the ceiling, the scattered salt in the cup holder, and the stench of old fast food hung in the air.

  
Just then, miraculously, Jimin decided to let go. He decided to let go of Namjoon, of the smashed mirror, of his deadass life; for there was Hoseok, and there was him. 

  
"Want to do something crazy?"

  
Jimin's voice was small, but the words screamed deafeningly, smacking Hoseok right into a headache.  _Did_ he want to do something crazy? He was just trying to get home, he'd planned on watching the redbox that was now sat in his back seat, then sleeping: an easy night. But here was a man he barely knew, somebody who barely even spoke, and even when he did speak his words seemed like thin glass, ready to shatter, asking him if he wanted to do something crazy.   
  
  
Hoseok pursed his lips together, making them into a straight line. Jimin's heart stopped, did he say the wrong thing? Was he not supposed to say anything at all? His fingers instinctively darted down to the hem of his shirt, and he started to rub it between his index finger and thumb, but his worries were soon ceased. Almost unwillingly, Hoseok put his hands back on the wheel, turning it ever so slowly.  
  
"So, what is your definition of crazy, exactly?"   
The gated apartments soon dissipated from sight, and Hoseok kept his eyes on the windshield. Jimin sat back, taking in once another deep breath. He hadn't quite sorted out his thoughts yet, they were like smoke, impossible to capture, yet they threaded through his fingers, poking fun and cackling at his attempts to catch them.  
Then, abruptly, a thought floated into Jimin's mind, a simple one, yet  _something_ to do. 

  
"Stop by my apartment... remember the address?"  
  
 

 Jimin was in then out, a baggie in his hand, thumping against his thigh as he skidded back into the car. Once he got back in, Hoseok was laying back in the chair, his hands in his hair, his eyebrows burred together, his eyes closed. Jimin choked on his breath, but he didn't let it stop him from talking.

  
"You 'kay?" 

  
Hoseok opened just one eye, gazing into Jimin's perplexed face. He let his hands fall, his hair collapsing back into place.   
"Yeah," He said, his voice airy, "I'm just concerned at what you think is crazy."  
Jimin let out a genuine, delicate chuckle, before presenting the Ziploc bag he had been holding. Hoseok rolled his eyes then whispered, of course.  
  


        Smoke bellowed out around the two, the gray wisps playing tag with each other, entering and exiting the two male's lungs. The windows were misty, and Jimin drew a smiley face on the window. He hadn't dared to look at Hoseok that alluring face of his sultry and tender at the same time, exposed, to say the least. But Jimin's eyes itched for more than just a fix and they controlled his head, twisting his neck to encounter those brown orbs gawking into Jimin's very soul. Jimin needed air. He needed something to calm his twitching hands, and they brought him to the window, cracking it ever so little, just enough that a cool breeze of air entered in.   
Hoseok didn't break his gaze though, he only tilted his head. He let his fingers pull the joint away from his lips, exhaling the bittersweet smoke onto Jimin's nose, making the other male bat his eyelashes.  
"I wanna see a movie."

Hoseok declared, turning back on the engine. Jimin didn't refuse, he just sat deep into the chair, letting the vibrations of the car suck him in, until there was a sudden jolt, and the were there. Like bad kids they hid the numbing poison under the chairs, using each other's spit to put them out. Jimin brought in the lighter though, his finger playing with the flint.   
  
"What movies are playing?"  
Hoseok took the lead, swooping in, directly asking the amused cashier. The lady, flipping her hair over her eye, bluntly stated that the movie times were right above her head, and that the next movie didn't start until 20 minutes. Hoseok didn't care though, not about the title, not about the time, so he bought two tickets, two tiny papers that he shoved into his jean pockets right after receiving them. He then took Jimin by the wrist, his hands cold but assuring, leading him to the next counter, chanting  _popcorn_ gently under his breath.

  
Jimin let himself be swept way, to be led here in there, holding out his arms to hold the large popcorn and thousand bags of candy. He didn't mind, he  _couldn't and wouldn't_ mind. His heart beat fast, thumping up and down inside and out, for here he was, being bold, with the one and only ©Damn Jung Hoseok. The one and only ©Damn Jung Hoseok who thought books were for nerds and gays were for hell. But once again, Jimin  _couldn't and wouldn't_ mind. 

  
Advertisements gently played in the background, flashing on the big screen. Hoseok chose the seats, straight in the middle, sitting down and gesturing for Jimin to sit next to him. Jimin did as he was told, taking his spot on Hoseok's right, staring at the side of his face. His mind was whirling, it wouldn't stop, it just kept spinning spinning and spinning in a tornado of thoughts questions and scenarios. How did he get here again? Was this just a dream? Did he really piss of Namjoon? Was this really Jung Hoseok next to him?

  
Jimin cocked his head, not losing his focus on Hoseok's jawline. Was this really Jung Hoseok? Was this the real Hoseok sitting next to him, a small dribble of butter streaming down his chin, his almond eyes glued onto the giant screen in front of him? Colors flashed on the male's face, illuminating it in every color of the rainbow. Jimin didn't want this to ever end. He felt his heart doing cartwheels, running around in circles, yelling at the top of its lungs that he  _loved ©Damn Jung Hoseok very very very much._

  
Jimin felt as vines grew up his legs, and his hands turn to concrete. The weeds of reality cracked through, shattering the hard rock underneath, for the truth ricocheted and turned into a bullet inside of Jimin's heart, for this moment may never, ever happen again. Jimin slunk down, putting his head in the crook of his arms, his chin balancing on the arm of the chair. Poison ivy clung to his arms now, choking them at the point of no return, making them every shade of purple and blue. Jimin felt his grip on false hopes loosening, like smoke dancing through his fingers, flirtatiously stroking them at the end then leaving, just their traces wrapped around his digits like rings.  
  
A small thud shattered Jimin's illusion; no longer were there vibrant stems sketched against his side, now there was just shadows and a gentle light. Jimin blinked, flicking the piece of popcorn out of his hair. 

  
"Whatcha staring at?"

  
Hoseok's eyes were like little flashlights, bright, and interrogating, as if they saw right through him. Jimin kept his mouth shut, afraid of the words that might escape them if he let the cave open. Instead, he just batted his eyelids, and cocking his head gently to the left. Hoseok rolled his eyes, putting his chin on his chair's arm, just like Jimin. He  _booped_ Jimin's nose, wanting more than just a bat of an eye. 

  
Jimin's eyes danced. The world was blurry again, Hoseok the only thing in focus, his lips a brilliant, royal pink, shining and bright and Jimin wanted to cover the light up, for it was giving him a headache. Hoseok's eyes flashed, like a disco ball in the dark, irradiating the light all around him. 

  
A piece of hair left its assigned spot on Hoseok's head, and Jimin decided it was his job to put it back in its place. His fingers brushed the top of Hoseok's ear, and the smell of weed and butter gagged Jimin, controlling his fingers as they trailed along Hoseok's jawline, then to his lips.

  
He could do it if he wanted to. Jimin could really really really kiss Hoseok if he wanted to. His index finger tapped at the corner of Hoseok's lips. Jimin let his thoughts wonder again. What if he did kiss him, but what if also Hoseok puked, and never talked to him again? What if he didn't kiss him, and he'd loose his maybe only chance to do so?

  
Jimin's own lips twitched, and he felt his leg start to pump up and down up and down up and down in a rhythmical motion. Then the world turned white. Jimin could feel his stomach tense up, curling into itself. His eyes rolled back into his skull, and the tips of his fingers were caked in frostbite, icy blue, electric shots jumping up his arm.   
But his lips. But his lips. They were so, so warm. A fireplace cackled somewhere on a winter night, with a hot chocolate tipped into somebody's mouth. There was a blanket too, soft, so secure. And mint hair. And lips soft just as these. But when Jimin opened his eyes, there was no longer mint green hair, there was no longer snow outside the window, or a new leather jacket wrapped around him. Jimin had to take a moment to process what just happened. He was here, in the present, wearing a nasty brown vest over a white buttoned shirt, with stupid black framed glasses, black work pants, and unmatching black and white converse.

  
And ©Damn Jung Hoseok had just kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took a while to update. Sorry for the wait! I didn't write all summer, and now school is back in full swing. Hopefully though, I'll start to write some more! Sorry for some of the mistakes, I'm going to have to come in a different night and fix all of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimin banged his head against the yellowing tile and saw stars. And Hoseok.

The world seemed tilted, out of focus. Everything was a blinding white and all Jimin had to breath. And only breath. Who was he again? Where was he? Didn't somebody who shouldn't have  _kiss him?_

Jimin felt his blood run cold, sprinting up and down his veins, freezing him to his spot. Breath. Breath. Breath. Breath.  _Breath. Breath. Breath. BREATH GOD DAMMIT._

  
He was here, in the movie theater. The world was starting to come back, centering back into his attention. The room was dark, the only light being the projector shining on the large screen. There were a couple more people in the theater now, gently chattering to themselves. Jimin blinked, his hands seemed to be frozen to the chair, then he noticed the person who was sitting next to him.

  
Then he remembered. He remembered everything like it was the only thing he could do. The one and only Jung Hoseok had kissed him.

Bad thoughts instantly went whirling through Jimin's mind. What if someone saw? Did I kiss back? Does he pity me? Did he really just do that? What's going to happen next?  
Every little scenario good and bad played through Jimin's mind and every way it could happen within the seconds it took Hoseok to speak.  
  
  
"Jimin, you okay man?"

  
Hoseok's voice was quiet, but husky. Behind Hoseok's eyes was an emotion Jimin just couldn't put a finger on and Jimin also couldn't pinpoint if he should be afraid, nervous, or prepared for something he won't forget.

  
The only thought Jimin could think clearly _was what the fuck is happening to me._

  
Before Jimin could answer out loud, though, Hoseok took his wrist once again, palms now sweaty with nervousness, and drug him out of the room. Jimin let him pull him away from the dark chamber, away from the large popcorn they had just bought, away from the expensive candies, and away from the seat that whispered to the others that  _Jung Hoseok the homophobic just kissed the gay af Park Jimin._

 _  
"_ It was too stuffy in there anyways. And too many people."

  
Hoseok was talking to himself at this point as he continued dragging Jimin along. Jimin could tell he was high off of his bonkers, probably not used to the strong weed Jimin was oh so used to. He could practically see the unknown flashing in Hoseok's eyes, wondering what thought to listen to, what action to do next.

  
Jimin was used to the feeling, for it had become dull to him, from the nights of numbness and wanting to forget. Jimin doubted Hoseok ever felt that way, lonely, afraid, alone. Hoseok was too pretty for that, his large almond eyes dark and comforting, his jet-black hair soft-looking and smooth. His cheekbones were too merry and he didn't have a single stress line to ruin that pretty face of his.

  
He was unscathed. ( ~~unlike jimin~~ )

  
Before he knew it, Jimin's surroundings became white(ish) tile and urinals with speakers playing some overplayed pop song he'd heard a million times. But it was empty of any other human and though a gentle stench hung in the air this air was new and Jimin found himself breathing normally again. Jimin watched as Hoseok took a deep breath, too, until finally he unhanded the shorter male, shaking off his own white knuckles. Jimin looked down at his wrist, and saw a red ring around it in the shape of Hoseok's fingers. He hadn't even noticed how tightly Hoseok had been holding onto him, he must've been sucked into his own world too much, dancing with fairies and monsters and... there he went. Again.

  
"Well, here I go."

  
Jimin tilted his head, hearing Hoseok speak again. Suddenly, though, his lips were up against his again, and hands appeared on his hips. Jimin blushed at the unanticipated movements, but he didn't stop the black-haired male. He practically melted into his touch, his back being pinned to the bathroom wall.

  
He felt like a submissive dog, allowing Hoseok to do whatever he wanted to him, like shoving his tongue down his throat as his long fingers danced against the ridges of his hips, but unlike a mutt that was just being abused by a stronger male, Jimin was actually loving it. Yes, loving it. How long he had imagined this moment, Jimin had stopped counting the months. All he knew was that he imagined it being a bit more classy.

  
Oh fucking well.

  
Jimin banged his skull against the ugly white wall, and for a moment he saw stars. He saw stars where Hoseok kissed him on his neck and where his hands wrapped around his waist. He pulled off his own shirt, for he felt a burning sun inside of him, heating up his insides and skin until they bubbled up and exploded. He felt his nails dig into Hoseok's neck as he nibbled on his flaming skin, making it as red as it felt. And once again he mother fucking loved it. 

  
Hoseok marked his territory, his mind clouded with lust, his vision fuzzy with want. Jimin's legs were wrapped around his waist, his black skinny jeans pressing stiffly into his torso, and Hoseok couldn't take it anymore. He mumbled profanities to himself as he unzipped his own pants, then Jimin's.

  
And the brown-haired, librarian-looking male let him.

  
Jimin let Hoseok strip him down to bone in a public bathroom in a movie theater, removing the black jeans that'd just get in the way and the stupid white button down and brown vest that caused Namjoon to walk away.. He let him lick up and down his stomach, nipping at his nipples and pinching them between his fingers. Hoseok was definitely not a virgin, Jimin could tell by just how orgasmic his touch was, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter because the boy that haunted Jimin's every thought every day and replaced all of those unwanted/wanted/hated/loved memories of the mint-haired male.

  
As Hoseok sucked on Jimin's neck, Jimin felt as a finger was cheekily put in his asshole. He bit his lip and closed his eyes as the stars reappeared. This wasn't Jimin's first time either, but the last time someone touched him like this, way before platonic sex with Namjoon, was that wide-eyed, leather-jacket giver. Jimin felt envy. Jimin felt jealousy. Jimin felt regret. Jimin wanted to tell himself to fuck himself for thinking like that, but someone already was. 

  
Another finger was pressed inside of him, wet and sticky with hot saliva, probing him,getting him ready for something much different. Jimin was shaking at this point, though, his heart threatening to pound right out of his chest. And his abs hurt from being strained against the wall and leaning against Hoseok, keeping him upright, but Jimin wasn't just about to complain. The boy with the body to die for, the face to kill for, and the personality to be swooned over, was here with Jimin, the boy with too many problems to count, about to  _fuck ~~the daylights out of~~ him._

  
"Jimin. Imma do it."

  
Hoseok didn't have to explain, and Jimin prepared himself, relaxing his lower back and melting into Hoseok's arms. And they both moaned deeply as Hoseok slid into him, his cock throbbing. Jimin slipped his hands under Hoseok's collar, his nails dragging against his skin. His head slammed against the hideous yellowing wall again, but he just didn't and couldn't care. 

  
Hoseok was holding onto his hips again, and he started ramming Jimin up into the heavens. Jimin's own dick slapped against his stomach hard and erect, and he couldn't think of anything else except that  _©Damn Jung Hoseok was fucking him like there was no tomorrow and it made him horny as fuck._

 _  
_"F-fuck H-Hoseok.."

  
Jimin stammered, his face hot and pulsing a bright red as Hoseok thrusted himself deep inside him, his walls seeming to tighten every wave. 

  
"That's what I'm doing."

  
Hoseok bluntly replied, his lips then meeting Jimin's adam's apple. Everything that tall boy just turned Jimin on more and more, if that was even possible. Wet dreams resurfaced in his brain, the things that he'd always wanted to do to his coworker, and it made Jimin slobber.

  
Hoseok's fingers were magic and they twirled around the tip of Jimin's cock and he couldn't help but moan. His ass was being pounded into by a beast but a fairy jerked him off delicately and swiftly. Spit dripped down from his stomach and onto his dick and Jimin once again remembered he was having hot dirty sex with the man of his dreams in a grimy movie theater bathroom but for some reason he couldn't have thought of a better way of how things planned out.

  
Hoseok breathed heavily on his shoulder and nibbled on his ear, his hands starting to shake from holding Jimin's body up for so long while at the same time pleasuring him but he wasn't going to stop just yet. He gently placed Jimin down but forced the smaller man to turn around and bend down, and as he held onto Jimin's wrists he thrust inside him again, causing Jimin to moan and yelp and release a stream of profanities as oh god he was hitting the spot.

  
A couple more minutes and neither of them could hold it any longer, and they came together, the white liquid spraying out of Jimin's asshole onto the while tile below them. Their voices and breaths were shaky but that didn't stop Jimin from falling onto his knees, offering to help clean up, and starting to suck on Hoseok's dick. 

  
It was the older male's turn to loll his head back and gurgle in pleasure, brushing his hands through Jimin's soft brown hair, moaning curse words under his tongue. Jimin gagged on his length, but he didn't care. As long as he made Hoseok happy, he would never care. He could never do anything right, and this is the only time he'd seemed to do good.  
  
  
  
  
Jimin couldn't remember much after that. Or did he? Did he want to forget, or did he just want to remember the good stuff? The ride home was awkward, both of them being reminded that tomorrow was work and they had hickeys lining up and down both of their throats, and bright red nail lines danced down Hoseok's neck and Jimin now had permanent indentures in his hips and honestly his asshole really hurt.

  
But what Jimin did know that he left his good ol' bag of blunts in Hoseok's car, (which he really regretted) and he could've swore he saw that stupid old yellowing leather jacket in his back seat (which he really regretted seeing). 

  
His mind was blank now, though, as he stood in the shower, letting the warm water drip down his aching body. The world around him turned slowly as the day replayed over and over in Jimin's mind.  _I went to Starbucks. I pissed off Namjoon. Somehow I ended up in Hoseok's car. Somehow Hoseok ended up smoking with me. Somehow we ended up in a movie theater and banged in the bathroom... did we really bang in a bathroom? Did I really piss off Namjoon?_

 _  
_Jimin stood there until steam billowed off of his shoulders and he could see parts of hair dye starting to wash out.  
 He sighed, throwing on a loose white t-shirt and some black boxers, his hands running up and down his maltreated hips and ass. He walked to his bedroom and plopped onto his bed, pulling up a blanket to cover his exposed legs.  
  
  
  
 _I guess life was kinda sorta okay to me today compared to yesterday._  
  
  
Jimin shook away the thoughts of the loud night before, with the shitty beer he had thrown up and the shitty dancing he probably had done and the shitty taxi driver and the shitty mirror he cracked with his now shitty phone. As if it knew it was being thought of, there was a tiny vibration that ricocheted through the mattress, the source of course being Jimin's absolutely shattered phone. He'd left it home all day, wanting to disregard the cracked screen, falling glass, and broken cheap case. Now though, he noticed that he'd been getting notifications all day long. Most of them were from Namjoon, then a number that Jimin didn't recognize, but struck something inside of him that he didn't exactly know. Maybe he did know the phone number, his mind said. He just wanted to forget it. Sighing, Jimin decided to read Namjoon's texts first, for there were a lot of them.  
  
The first text was a long paragraph, and Jimin could practically taste what it was going to be about.

  
_Sorry for walking off like i did today. i know it was supposed to be our day, our day to remember y we're friends and i ruined that. i know we dont get to do that often and just... yeah. but u kinda pissed me off. i think u already know that tho. it's just that... i hate recognizing what i am most of the time. i know im a player. i know i throw people away like garbage and its sick of me to do that. and i realize that now. but i met Jin. and i dont think u understand Jimin, i think i love him. i think i truely really really very much love him. he's so sweet and understands me and just... i could go on and on... but anyways thats why i think i got so PO'd. im defensive about him now. but u were right. i do usually treat people like victims. but now i dont think i will._

_  
_Jimin couldn't help but smile. This Jin guy was probably pretty special, and it was pretty funny how the playboy Kim Namjoon was ranting on and on about this one dude. And this 'Jin' made Namjoon happy, and when a friend was happy, Jimin couldn't help but feel a little elated himself. But what Namjoon didn't know was that oh yes he did understand. He understood more than he probably should've. Jimin knew that same feeling, the feeling where you just couldn't get that person off your mind no matter what and you could be happy or sad or in the middle of something and you think _I want them to be here_ and how you just want them to be happy and so on. Oh Jimin defiently knew. And it pained his heart that he did because instinctively, Hoseok's face first popped up in his mind, then immediately afterwards it was that sugar-skinned, bubble-gum lipped, mint blue face and Jimin had to hold back tears. He bit his tongue as he continued reading Namjoon's texts.

  
_I'm sorry 4 bothering u i know u probably dont want to talk to me_

_  
ok so srry 4 bothering u again but Jin said he'd want to meet u_

_  
he's really sweet_

_  
and cute_

_  
and his ass is nice_

_  
okay i take that back it's really nice_

_  
jimin plz answer me i think my heart is going to explode_

_  
plz jimin i dont think u understand_

_  
my heart_

_  
kaboom_

_  
call an ambulance_

_  
somebody call the doctor_

_  
im in danger_

_  
KAWAII DESU NI JIMINIE_

_  
ok im offically dead_

_  
he called me cute_

_  
_And the texts went on and on and on and on and on and Jimin felt hot wet alligator tears roll down his face because his heart felt so empty, so lost. He missed that exact feeling, that feeling where everything was in place.. He missed that feeling where he seemed so loved and so cared for and that somebody would always find his flaws to be perfections and that that person would never care if he made a mistake no matter how big and that he'd always have someone to rely on no matter what. Hoseok was just a one night(day?) stand/mistake/that should've never happened ~~(like me being born)~~  and he knew it. He knew he'd never feel the way that one fucktard oh so long ago made him feel like.

  
Jimin then remembered the unknown phone number that had texted him. His heart stopped. He did know that phone number, didn't he? He used to know it like the back of his hand and the lips of his lover for he stared at it for nights and days hoping one day he might just get the courage to call or text or send an emoji or FaceTime or whatever. Hands shaking, almost against his will, Jimin opened the text, afraid of what he'd read.

  
_Hey Jimin. It's been a long time hasn't it. About a year today, huh? Miss me?_

_  
_No. No no no no no and _no_. This couldn't wouldn't and shouldn't couldn't wouldn't and shouldn't couldn't wouldn't and shouldn't be happening. This wouldn't happen in a million years. Or would it? Maybe life was only acting like it treated Jimin well today just so this could happen and like a bullet going through his skull Jimin realized this. Quickly, he felt pain. He felt failure. He felt the walls around him collapse. Everything he'd been building up since that god damned day came crumbling down just because a fucking mint haired fucking bubble-gum lipped fucking sugar-skinned boy decided to text him.  
His name kept running through his mind like a wild cat through thorns, stabbing and curling around until it could only scream for help.

  
_MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI MIN YOONGI_

_  
_His name was tattooed in Jimin's veins and memories came flooding back like a hurricane like a tsunami like a pummeling wave. All of the kisses and all of the hugs and all of the sex that meant nothing nothing nothing to that fucking Min Yoongi and he asks Jimin if HE FUCKING MISSED HIM?

  
God damn right that boy was right, Jimin missed him with his entire being his entire soul his body quavered with how much he just wanted his hand to hold and to snuggle his head in the crook of his neck and what could Jimin do about it? Absolute fucking nothing. And what could and did he do about it? He cried.

  
Jimin cried like the baby he is rocking himself back and forth with a blanket wrapped around him. His eyesight turned fuzzy and he damned the throbbing in his body and he swore he was never ever ever saying another word again until the day that he died because every time he said something he came right back to bite him in the ass.

   
 ~~He was never right he never deserved happiness he never deserved anything anything nope nope nope~~. Somebody called Jimin but he didn't care. He took a couple of pills out of the container next to his bed and swallowed them harshly down his sore throat because he didn't care anymore. Jimin just wanted to disappear, he wanted to be flying with the stars free free free and to fly away from his problems but he couldn't do that. All he could do was be Jimin. So that's what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER AND THIS IS SHIT I AM TRASH BUT I LOVE YA'LL SO I UPDATED IT <33333
> 
> ps. we're going to pretend this chapter is 3,400 words like the other two


End file.
